


The Highwayman

by Florrama



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Highwayman AU, Historical AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 11:51:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florrama/pseuds/Florrama
Summary: Cassian only expects the ordinary when he and his group of highwaymen target an unsuspecting carriage one evening: a quivering middle aged noble, a terrified wife or daughter, an over-mighty son. He certainly doesn't expect Nesta Archeron, possibly the fiercest lady he has ever come across. (discontinued, now a one shot).





	The Highwayman

It's a beautiful night the first time he sees her; one filled with the promise of danger and wealth and opportunity. The half moon shines down on the forest, the trees casting shadows on the well-worn road. Even though they're only waiting, obscured by the low hanging branches of the trees and the dark shadows, Cassian can still feel adrenaline beginning to course through his veins. It's a thrum of energy similar to the anticipation before a fight - except there shouldn't be a fight. A single highwayman can be intimidating to the more delicate class; an entire group of them is sure to make a noble or two quake in their finely made and barely worn boots.

He doesn't see her at first exactly, but rather her carriage. To anyone else it would seem nondescript: made of simple wood with little additions or details. Except the details are too beautiful to just be carved by anyone. These passengers are of the higher end of the upper class: most likely influential nobles, or people that consider themselves influential. They have enough money to fill his purse rather handsomely, and that's all that matters. It makes them a prime target.

As soon at the carriage nears, Cassian nudges his horse forward to block the road. The carriage, which is coming at quite a speed, comes to an abrupt halt when the driver spots his darkly clothed form. As soon as the driver realises who and what he likely is, Cassian recognises the regret in his expression. He shouldn't have stopped. A couple of Cassian's men halt behind the carriage, while another two are on either side. Amren, a woman who hadn't left him alone until he let her join his little ragtag group of merry men, stands beside him and grins. She's recognised the wealth the carriage likely holds too. Which isn't surprising; if anyone has an eye for the expensive, it's Amren. 

Cassian begins to prepare himself to charmingly start his speech. They use the same one each time: something about how they don't want to hurt anyone, they're just looking for money. It's a way to make end's meet, and they really hope that everyone understands this situation. But he doesn't have the chance. A head of golden-brown hair pops out of the carriage window, glances around the area with what he presumes is a scowl, before disappearing back into the safety of the carriage for a moment. A second later, a woman clothed in a simple but obviously very expensive dress and cloak steps out of the carriage. Cassian hears the soft murmurs of confusion that come from his crew. It's not often that anyone - let alone a lady - is willing to step outside of their carriage to face the potential threat. Amren whispers something, but he cant hear her. Cassian is all too focused on the woman that is currently stalking towards him, like a cat towards her prey. Since when is Cassian prey? 

The confidence with what she walks is what strikes him first. There's no tremble in her step, or quiver of her lip as she walks towards him. It doesn't matter that he and his men (and Amren) are all dressed similarly, she has clearly correctly guessed that he is the leader here - Cassian has never believed in the same finery that Dick Turpin supposedly had. Dark clothes are better for when stealth is required, and makes slipping away from soldiers all the more possible. Maybe it's his demeanour, or his devilishly good looks. Either way, she's walking towards him with a straight back and a raised chin - and he feels a little off-kilter. A soft scoff from his right side alerts him that Amren has noticed his own change in posture. 

When she finally steps into the little light the silver moon allows, Cassian is blown away. There's no other way to say it. He faintly recognises his hands holding onto the reigns even tighter than they had been before. Steel blue eyes glare up at him through thick eyelashes - yet she still manages to seem bored, or at the most slightly frustrated. Her lips - beautiful lips, even when in a thin line - are pursed and her arms are crossed defensively and defiantly across her chest. She's the epitome of grace and anger all at once. She's possibly the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Beautiful doesn't even begin to cover it.

"What, exactly, is the meaning of this?" Even her voice is cold, matching the chilling temperature of the autumn air around them. He smiles charmingly down at her, but it doesn't seem to have any effect. At least not a positive one - the slight twitch in her jaw just means he's just vexing her even further. There's a moment of silence as the woman scans his form. He doesn't miss the slight curl of her lip as she sneers in distaste, nor the way her eyes hover over the glinting metal of his pistol - but he also doesn't miss the way she pauses on his flirtatious smirk, her sneer retreating a little in response. Naturally, this brings him a world of satisfaction. Even the most steel-willed of people can't help but recognise his attractiveness. 

"We are in need of a little money, is all." Cassian watches as her eyes subtly scan Amren from head to toe, taking in the dark clothing that helps her hide in the foliage around them, and the scars that grace her arms. To her, she must seem like a peasant - the complete opposite of what the woman in front of him was taught to be. He supposes he cant blame her for her distate. Firstly, they are highwaymen, and secondly, she is only a product of her upbringing. Seeing a lady in trousers must cause quite a shock. "And I am quite certain you have some to offer." Her eyes flit back to his, and she raises a delicately shaped eyebrow. It's a complete contrast to her own demeanour and previous actions. Beautiful she may be, but he pities the fool that thinks her delicate.

A quiet snort slips free from her gritted teeth, and she rolls her eyes. Cassian raises an eyebrow at the unladylike gesture - not that he's particularly bothered with the whole _ladylike_ malarkey. Amren isn't exactly a lady, and she's fine company, but it's still surprising when someone dressed in a dress of extremely fine quality and with a posture that straight rolls their eyes and snorts, of all things. She grows more fascinating by the second. "By some, I presume you mean all." Cassian simply grins in response. There's no point in lying to a lady quite so attuned like she. "There is a chest I will have brought out to you - but only if you swear to let us be on our way." Most of those they target slip free unharmed - Cassian doesn't particularly like harming innocents. It's only usually those that put up a fight that end up with any type of injury. Even then it's often simply a black eye or a bump on the head. 

"Of course." He nods towards the carriage, and when his men begin to move, the woman freezes. It's the only sign of fear she has shown so far. It piques his interest more than he would like to admit.

"I will retrieve it for you. There is no need to use your lackeys." If he hadn't been listening for the tremble in her voice, he wouldn't have heard it. Whoever this woman is, she is used to hiding her emotions.

"But I insist. Surely the chest is too heavy for a _lady_ such as yourself to carry." He retorts, but she is already turning to run towards the carriage. _Such a shame,_ Cassian thinks. _She had been so compliant until now._ Cassian slides off the back of his horse and latches onto her arm just before she can slip away. His grip is tight, but not harsh enough to leave any sort of bruise or mark. "Hiding something?" He mutters into her ear. Her spine stiffens at their proximity, but her eyes don't leave the carriage, and she doesn't halt her struggle.

He decides he likes the fight in her. Fierce women are so hard to come by, these days, and are much more attractive than those who simply mewl and flutter their eyelashes at his every move - only to cower in disgust when he shows any sign of anything other than a dashing personality. 

As the hidden contraband is dragged out of the carriage, all Cassian can do is blink in surprise. It's no treasure, or money, or expensive rarity... it's a woman, only a few years younger - at the very most - than the one he currently holds on to. As she appears, struggling herself in the arms of one of Cassian's men, the woman in his own hold tugs at his hand with a renewed vigour. He wants to laugh. 

Until she bites him.

It's quite the surprise, really, one that Cassian hadn't exactly steeled himself for. He reels back in shock, hissing at the sudden sharp pain. She dashes towards her companion immediately, not caring that the hem of her dress is becoming dirtied by the dried mud on the road. Cassian can only watch with mild interest as the even progresses. The younger woman tries - and fails - to stamp on the foot of his man (Alistair), and proceeds to call out for her companion: the wildcat. _Nesta._ He hasn't the faintest what her name means, but still finds it suiting; the soft 's' a complete juxtaposition to the harsher 't'. It is her embodied in two syllables. Nesta hisses at Alistair, who immediately lets go of her companion with an expression of utter shock as Nesta tugs her to her chest, wrapping her arms around her protectively. Out of his periphery, Cassian notes that Alistair, and the others, look at Cassian for guidance - but he is at a loss, too. A quick glance between the two women confirms his suspicions: they must be sisters; the same golden brown hair, she same cheekbones (even if the younger woman's features are slightly softer) and the same stature. He is inches away when he notices the only difference. While Nesta's eyes are a steely, fierce blue, her sister's are a softer brown - but even then they hold a similar fire. He faintly thinks that Azriel would find her younger sister fascinating. The way she hides behind Nesta, but still focuses on Cassian with a harsh resolve, would appeal to him greatly. Not that I matters. Azriel is too busy making a living for himself, working for higher powers as their spymaster. They haven't had contact in quite some time.

Cassian takes another step forward, holding his hands up as a sign of peace - but adjusting his coat as they rise to briefly flash his pistol. While her sister's eyes flick down to the brief glint, Nesta doesn't break his gaze."Let us take what you have, and we will leave you be." Nesta ponders the demand for a few moments, her eyes focused on his form. She's most likely thinking of any other possible escape plans - ones that involve them retaining their valuables. But there aren't any. She scowls, narrows her eyes, and nods stiffly. As the driver silently and carefully collects all valuables and items of wealth from the carriage, Nesta ushers her sister back into the carriage with low whispers and the softest expression he has seen from her all night.

At the last moment, however, before she climbs in herself, Nesta approaches Cassian, her expression having revered back to its previously enraged and cold form, an stops close enough for the toes of their shoes to touch. 

"If I ever even catch a glimpse of your face again, I will ensure that it is on every wanted poster throughout this country." Her lips curl back from her teeth as she speaks, her words controlled, cool but an underlying tone of anger has Cassian seriously considering her threat. But he's quite the rouge, so he decides to antagonise her anyway.

"Clever plan, my lady, but you do not even know my name." He begins to grin, but halts with slightly widened eyes as Nesta allows herself a smirk. It is entrancing, and even more frightening than any glare she can produce.

"No, but I know your face very, very well." Nesta takes a step backwards, face back to its vexed state. "Farewell, Highwayman."

Before he can say a single word, a single syllable, Nesta has shut the carriage door behind her, and the driver has sped off at a much faster pace than beforehand. Cassian watches the carriage until it eventually moulds into the distant darkness, only stopping when Amren coughs behind him. Even then, he finds himself almost moving in a daze. Nests has left quite an impression on him. She is a contradiction of a woman, like no one he has ever come across before - and he is completely, utterly, irrevocably intrigued.

**Author's Note:**

> Now a one shot.


End file.
